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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121120">meetings (will be the death of me)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrPearlGatsby/pseuds/DrPearlGatsby'>DrPearlGatsby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors, Background Reylo, F/M, Flirting, GingerRoseWeek2020, Gingerflower, Gingerrose - Freeform, Hux is the college librarian, Pining, Rose is the Writing Center director, annoying university politics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:34:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrPearlGatsby/pseuds/DrPearlGatsby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Professor Rose Tico is just trying to get the college writing center off the ground and college librarian Armitage Hux keeps distracting her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armitage Hux/Rose Tico</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>GingerRoseWeek2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Faculty Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>OMG y'all, it's <a href="https://gingerrose-hub.tumblr.com/post/614909019904163840/gingerrose-week-2020">GingerRose Week</a>!! This chapter is for the Day One prompt "Coat."</p><p>Thanks as always to the lovely Gingerflowers/hive on Discord (#Sluts4HuxHoes4Rose)!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The moderator checks her list. “The next hand I saw was Dr. Solo.”</p><p> </p><p>Immediately to Rose’s right, Rey begins talking; simultaneously, across the room, Ben is talking as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Not again,” someone in Rose’s vicinity grumbles.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” the moderator raises both hands, looking alarmed. “You <em>both</em> had your hands up?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Rey and Ben say in unison. It takes a moment to sort out, but finally Rey gets the floor first.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just concerned about these policies,” Rey frowns. “It sounds like they’re disadvantaging transfer students. I understand that we have a different formula for awarding credit hours, but if I’m hearing you correctly it sounds like most students with associate’s degrees or transfer credit are either taking an overload or an extra semester.”</p><p> </p><p>The moderator thanks Rey for her contributions and gestures for Ben to speak. Rose braces herself, leaning just slightly away from Rey’s chair. The last time the Doctors Solo had disagreed at a faculty meeting, Rey, in a fit of passionate gesturing, had accidentally sent her own water bottle flying into the next row of faculty, clocking a math professor on the shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“And <em>I</em> just wanted to say that I approve of the decision of the committee. Why do we even have committees if we’re going to debate any decision we’ve supposedly trusted them to make? Besides, a lot of the commentary so far has been afield of the topic at hand. We’re debating the decision, not the policies that govern it; if we’re going to debate policies, we’ll have to enter into a separate process.” Ben sends a pointed look in the direction of his wife.</p><p> </p><p>Rose shrinks even further back into her chair, but this time Rey controls herself, clenching her hand into a fist but restraining herself from speaking out of turn. Rose breathes a sigh of relief as the moderator fields two more comments.</p><p> </p><p>The clock on the wall signals five minutes until the scheduled end of the faculty meeting, and Rose shuffles through the papers in front of her, tuning out the conversation. She’s been gearing up for this all week—her chance to present a proposal about the writing center—but it’s looking like they’re going to call the meeting before they can get through the agenda.</p><p> </p><p>In almost a year at the university, Rose has learned that it’s always like this. If it’s not Rey and Ben, it’s someone else—though it’s the two of them more often than not. Rey is impulsive, quick to speak before she thinks; her husband does a good impression of calm until suddenly he isn’t. Poe in Psychology once invited Rose to a betting pool for a faculty meeting—at her surprised reaction, he’d insisted he was only joking. Rose didn’t believe that for a second.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll send along the rest of the points to department meetings,” the moderator is saying, signaling the wrap-up, and Rose sighs in something that’s not quite relief. On the one hand, she doesn’t have to take the spotlight in front of all her colleagues—so many of whom she still hasn’t met yet—but she doesn’t have much faith in her proposal getting a fair read at department meetings, either. Hell—with Rey teaching literature and Ben teaching creative writing, Rose thinks it’s a wonder the English department ever gets anything done at <em>all</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone is standing up to leave. Beside her, Rey has started a conversation with Finn from computer science. Poe is at the front of the room, laughing along with a severe woman in political science whom Rose hasn’t met yet. Even Kaydel seems to have ducked out early, which leaves almost no one for Rose to talk to. She files out behind everyone else, giving polite nods and smiles, and steps away from the crowd to use the restroom.</p><p> </p><p>The bulletin boards in the hallway are prominently displaying her “SPRING MIDTERMS CAFÉ” signs, and she’s happy to see. There are more signs in the bathroom, even one taped to the back of the stall door, and Rose makes a mental note to thank her writing consultants for their marketing efforts. At least her students seem excited about the new Writing Center—even if no one else is.</p><p> </p><p>When she exits the restroom, the lobby of the arts center is mostly empty, with small clusters of faculty hanging back having individual conversations in low voices. Rose nods politely to two colleagues to pause their conversation to wave at her, but it all just seems to emphasize how separate she is from the rest of the university. Even at a teaching-focused school, all of Rose’s colleagues are so accomplished in their professional lives. Poe mentors students who win top research awards and fellowships every year. Finn’s coding camp for low-income teenagers has received national recognition. Rey’s just been awarded a grant after the success of a local social justice walking tour, and Ben’s most recent novel was on the <em>New York Times</em> bestseller list for seven weeks. All Rose has is two rooms tucked into a forgotten corner of the student union. Around her students, Rose feels like she has a purpose; but around her colleagues, she just feels… invisible.</p><p> </p><p>Up ahead of her, the college librarian Armitage Hux has just finished a conversation and is heading out the big double-doors. He glances over his shoulder, noticing her, and stops to hold the door open in spite of the fact that she’s still quite a ways back.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! Thank you,” Rose calls out, picking up her pace with a little skip so as not to keep him waiting. She hasn’t interacted with Hux really since she’d interviewed for this job over a year ago, but her impression of him hasn’t much changed since then: icy, clipped, severe.</p><p> </p><p>As Rose nears the door a blast of cold air hits her. “Good grief!” she exclaims as she continues toward the exit. When she finally clears the doorframe, she sees that it’s begun to snow. “What the hell is <em>this</em>?” She hadn’t dressed for a freak snowstorm today, and as the wind blows right through her short-sleeved silk jumpsuit she shivers, hugging her arms to her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Global warming,” Hux says blandly, falling into step beside her as she’s cleared the door. “But hopefully an anomaly.”</p><p> </p><p>“You came prepared,” Rose says, nodding at the dark wool coat he’s wearing. That hasn’t changed, either—Hux’s wardrobe seems to be comprised entirely of dark colors.</p><p>                                 </p><p>He doesn’t reply, though he continues to walk with her down the empty, tree-covered walk that connects one end of campus to another. Rose glances over, wondering if she’s said something stupid, and notices how he quickly averts his eyes. <em>Weird</em>. “Headed home for the day?” It’s inane, sure, but she feels rude not trying to make conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he replies simply.</p><p> </p><p>There’s honestly nothing she’d love more than to go home now—especially with the snow starting—and curl up in bed, but she’s going to see her stupid event to the end—even if they’ve barely had any students come by all week, even if she doesn’t expect anybody to be working on next week’s midterm assignments until 7 p.m. on a Friday. Still, she keeps her voice upbeat. She needs the faculty to vote in her favor for a new office for the Writing Center. <em>Enthusiastic and positive</em>, she coaches, turning to smile up at Hux. “Well if you run into any students on the way to your car, maybe send them to the Midterm Café? We’ve got…” Rose checks her watch. “Two more hours tonight!” Another breeze hits her, and she rubs at her exposed arms.</p><p> </p><p>Hux doesn’t reply to that, either. Soon they’ve reached the sidewalk to faculty parking, and Rose still has the length of the promenade to go. “Well, good-night,” she says, hurrying to continue on.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait.”</p><p> </p><p>Rose pauses, turning back, to see Hux shrugging out of his coat and stepping toward her. Before she’s fully comprehended the situation he’s draping the coat around her shoulders, enveloping her in warmth and a heady sweet scent that must be his cologne.</p><p> </p><p>“You look like you need it,” Hux says, letting one hand rest ever-so-briefly on her shoulder before he withdraws.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment Rose is too stunned to speak, grateful as she is; and it’s in this moment that she notices he has lovely green eyes, complemented perfectly by the dark-green sweater he wears with his dark slacks. She blushes in spite of herself and protests stupidly, “But it’s your coat.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have others,” he shrugs dismissively. He turns to leave, nodding a brief “good night.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you!” Rose calls after him. The sleeves are far too long for her arms so she settles on wearing it like a blanket, pulling it tightly around her. By the time she reaches the student union, she’s nearly forgotten the frustrating faculty meeting; and for the last two hours of her event, she can’t even bring herself to be upset at the low turnout, fixated instead on her fleeting memories of a particularly bright shade of ginger hair, brief glimpses of exposed pale skin—his throat and wrists—and the sweet smell of cologne that clings to her hair and shoulders.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll be updating this fic at least a couple of times during the week to meet different prompt-based challenges. Normally when I start posting a fic before I've written it, things don't turn out great for the fic (*COUGHINEVERFINISHANYTHINGCOUGH*), but since I already know how it ends I think we'll be okay.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Lunch Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Day Two of <a href="https://gingerrose-hub.tumblr.com/post/614909019904163840/gingerrose-week-2020">GingerRose Week</a>, to fill the prompt "Fighter/Survivor."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose sees him the moment he walks in. It’s absolutely not because she’s positioned herself at the table in view of the door—nope, not at all. He’s all dressed up in dark slacks and a sport coat, a classic white Oxford underneath. She watches as he hands over his ID, putting a friendly smile on her face and trying a little wave when he begins to scan the cafeteria.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t see her; it seems he was assessing the line at the salad bar, which he decides to brave. Unfortunately, Rey <em>does</em> see the wave, glancing over her shoulder to see whose attention Rose is trying to get. “Good luck,” Rey says with a little frown.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey leans in a little closer, glancing back again to see if anyone nearby is listening. They aren’t—Rose and Rey are early to their lunch meeting with no students nearby. “Hux isn’t casually social. Also, <em>I’m</em> here, and he hates Ben.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? <em>Why</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Rose thinks she must’ve tried a little too hard to sound surprised, because Rey smiles wryly before taking a huge bite of sandwich. “I know Ben isn’t most people’s favorite person,” she says, remembering belatedly not to talk with her mouth full and pausing to chew. Rose flushes—but it’s true; Ben doesn’t exactly make an effort to get along with people. “I probably know best of anybody. But—well, it’s—” Rey makes a so-so gesture with her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m not—trying to—” Rose just shakes her head, raising a palm to indicate Rey doesn’t have to continue.</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s fine. It’s just, Hux and Ben were in grad school together—for the Ph.D. They had the same advisor—James Snoke?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh shit,” Rose says softly, ducking her head to take a bite of meatloaf. At this point just about everyone in academia has heard of James Snoke, thanks to the piece in the <em>Chronicle of Higher Education</em> exposing his years of manipulation and emotional abuse inflicted on grad students.</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly,” Rey says. “They started out together, but Snoke bullied Hux out of the program. He quit and went for his library degree; Ben stayed and helped with the effort to get Snoke fired.”</p><p> </p><p>Rose glances over Rey’s shoulder to find Hux again. Salad acquired, he moves toward the hot food stations at the other end of the cafeteria, still not glancing in their direction. She notes he’s carrying one of the reusable takeout boxes, a little disappointed that he doesn’t plan to stay.</p><p> </p><p>Rey is still talking. “Don’t get me wrong—it was pretty bad for Ben; he doesn’t even like to talk about it now. But I think Hux got it worse. Ben says Snoke would always praise Ben in terms of how much better he was than the other students; we’re pretty sure Snoke was turning around and taunting Hux that he’d never be as good as Ben.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s awful,” Rose says softly, glancing down at the plate of food in front of her; she’s suddenly a little less hungry.</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Rey sighs. “And we don’t hold it against him, but he’s still—prickly at best. And he never wants to come to anything. You know that big end-of-the-year cookout Poe hosts? He invites him every year, but Hux always RSVP’s ‘no.’”</p><p> </p><p>“I had a conversation with him the other day,” Rose says, feeling her cheeks heat up at the mention of it. <em>No, idiot, don’t keep talking about him</em>, she tries to tell herself. She’s never able to keep her crushes to herself—always blabbing left and right until, inevitably, things end in disappointment. But her mouth keeps moving. “It wasn’t bad. He held the door for me; he was pleasant.”</p><p> </p><p>“I hear he can be,” Rey says with a shrug, digging into her bread pudding.</p><p> </p><p>At that moment Hux comes around the corner of the hot food station, looking just in their direction, and Rose can’t help herself—she brightens, lifting a hand once again in a friendly wave. His eyes widen, just slightly, and he begins to move toward the back of the room where she and Rey are sitting.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Rose calls out with a smile when he’s within range, realizing belatedly that she has nothing else to say. <em>Join us? </em>No, this is still a meeting. <em>I have your coat?</em> No, that will have Rey asking questions Rose doesn’t feel like answering. <em>I’ll see you later?</em> Even more suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>Hux opens his mouth to speak, but he’s nearly hip-checked by Poe Dameron. “Hey, Hugs, care to join the curriculum committee?”</p><p> </p><p>Hux takes a step back to allow Poe by and glances at Rose again. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says quickly, nodding his head and turning on his heel to go.</p><p> </p><p>“Drat! Scared him off again,” Poe says none too quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Rey laughs along with Poe, lifting her eyes briefly to linger on Rose’s before she greets Poe properly. Rose glances back toward the door, but Hux is already gone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p><em>Ding!</em> The little bell at the front desk rings out into the quiet library. Down the hall, Rose can see a student worker poke their head out of the room, waving a hand in a “just a minute” gesture.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi!” Rose says brightly when the girl makes her way up to the desk. “Is Mr. Hux here?”</p><p> </p><p>“I think he’s in his office,” the student says, checking her calendar. “It’s around that corner? 124.”</p><p> </p><p>Rose nods her thanks continues on. She’s never had to visit someone in the library before and isn’t even sure where the offices are—but 124 is easy enough to find. There’s a big windowed wall that would look out into the library if the blinds were open; and through the tiny slit of a window on the door she sees his arm resting on the desk. Taking a deep breath, she knocks.</p><p> </p><p>“Professor Tico,” he greets her when he opens the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, I brought your coat back,” she says, holding out the article of clothing to him with a cautious smile. The cologne smell has faded from the collar, but she’s still a little sad to give it back. Without his coat, she won’t have another excuse to speak to him: <em>there goes our one connection</em>, she thinks as he takes it back. “Thank you again,” she gushes, trying to extend the moment. “It’s been some crazy weather, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>He makes a noncommittal noise and turns quickly away from her smile, moving to hang the coat over the back of a chair. The door starts to swing shut without him there to hold it, and Rose catches it on her foot, searching for something else to say and watching him. His haircut is perfectly precise, his jacket unrumpled. Rose absolutely does <em>not </em>eye his backside when he bends over the chair.</p><p> </p><p>Hux glances back over his shoulder, looking surprised to see her still standing there; and Rose feels a blush heat her cheeks. “Uh, um,” she ducks her head. “Alright. Bye.” Then she turns on her heel and hurries out of the library without another word.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>On Wednesday Rose takes two unnecessary trips to the library—one just to get out of her office and take a peek at the new releases, and one to pick up the two books on her over-long Goodreads “Want to Read” list that she’s just discovered are a part of the collection. She lingers at the checkout desk, chatting with the student worker, but no amount of stalling conjures her favorite ginger-haired librarian.</p><p> </p><p>By Thursday, Monday’s incident with Hux’s coat seems to have sealed her fate—until an email arrives in her inbox at 4:47 p.m.</p><p> </p><p><em>Professor Tico,</em> it reads, <em>We’ve read your proposal regarding the Writing Center in our most recent library staff meeting, and we’d like to have a follow-up conversation</em>. The email goes on to give some scheduling basics—they propose Tuesday at 4:30, at which time Rose happens to be free—and concludes, <em>All best, A. Hux</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Rose spends the next fifteen minutes debating whether to say “Awesome!” (is the exclamation mark too much? Does she sound twelve years old?) or “Sounds great” (without an exclamation mark, does she come across as sarcastic?), whether to begin with “Hello!” (too cute?) or “Dear Armitage” (he doesn’t even use his own first name, does he?), and whether to sign her name “Rose Tico” (a matching level of formality, to show that she is very professional and capable—or too stiff?) or just “Rose” (which feels very “we’re friends,” yes?). By 5:10 she becomes frustrated and clicks “send” on whatever she has, certain that he won’t take the time to analyze her every word, and leaves the student union to walk to her car.</p><p> </p><p>She’s just to the parking lot, pressing the “unlock” button on her key fob, when out of the corner of her eye she sees him getting into his car a few rows over. Her heart leaps in her chest—some stupid butterfly-esque maneuver. She scolds herself as she climbs into her own car, mumbling as she turns the key in the ignition, “This is getting ridiculous.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In the next chapter (for GR Week day four), we'll meet Millicent. Thanks for reading and commenting!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Zoom Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is for Day Four of <a href="https://gingerrose-hub.tumblr.com/post/614909019904163840/gingerrose-week-2020">GingerRose Week</a>, to fill the prompt "Millicent."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Meeting moved to Conference Room 2</em>, the sign on the door says. “O-kay,” Rose mutters to herself, turning around and glancing around the library for any indication of where Conference Room 2 is. The fact that the meeting was supposed to be held in room 127—which isn’t labeled “Conference Room 1,” or Conference Room <em>anything</em>—isn’t much help to her. She walks back past Hux’s office <em>very slowly</em>, but the lights seem to be off inside.</p><p> </p><p>A student rounds the corner with a rolling cart, and Rose flags her down for help. The student directs Rose upstairs, but when she gets to Conference Room 2, she only sees one person inside—an assistant librarian named Dopheld, if she remembers his name right.</p><p> </p><p>Rose picks up a hand to knock when she hears a loud voice—Hux’s—but it sounds <em>strange</em> somehow. “—fine. I’m fine,” he seems to be saying, but she hesitates, worried she’s interrupting a previous meeting. In that moment Dopheld sees her and beckons her in.</p><p> </p><p>“Rose, welcome,” he says when she opens the door. He’s the only person seated at the long conference table, and an image of Hux is being projected on the screen at the front of the room. “I’m afraid it’s just us today,” Dopheld says, indicating she should sit. “Beebee’s had a family emergency, and Mr. Hux is home with a bad cold. I’m afraid it won’t be a very effective meeting, so we were just discussing whether we might reschedule—”</p><p> </p><p>“Nonsense,” Hux says, and Rose straightens her shoulders; it looks like he’s looking directly at her. “Professor Tico has already had to put this off time after too many times.”</p><p> </p><p>Rose frowns, trying to make sense out of that; and Dopheld exchanges a look with Rose, who realizes with some embarrassment that Hux is not, in fact, looking at them, but rather making unnervingly perfect eye contact with his webcam.</p><p> </p><p>“Hux, if you’d excuse us just a minute,” Dopheld says, pulling out his chair.</p><p> </p><p>“What for?” Hux asks haughtily, but Dopheld is already motioning Rose out the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” he says in a low tone when the door has shut. “I tried to email you but we’ve been in meetings all day. Not very effective ones, either—he took some cold medicine about half an hour ago. Made him kind of loopy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no!” Rose says softly, trying to suppress a giggle. “It’s fine—Dopheld, right?” He nods. “It’s really okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“He doesn’t seem inclined to take ‘no’ for an answer, but maybe if you—” Dopheld suddenly squints, peering over Rose’s head, and Rose turns to see what he’s looking at. “Jonathan?”</p><p> </p><p>Jonathan is a student Rose doesn’t know—and he’s sobbing. He’s half-turned away from them, but when Dopheld calls his name the student trudges forward. “Mr. M-Mitaka,” he sniffles. “I know you wanted me to r-run the research presentation, but—” he takes a huge gasp of air, “Michael just b-broke up with me.” The last note ends on a pathetic whine and the student buries his face in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>Dopheld glances to Rose in a panic. “Uh—”</p><p> </p><p>“Take care of it,” Rose says, waving him off. “I’ll go talk to Hux, tell him I want to reschedule.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Dopheld says, though he’s already moving to collect Jonathan from the middle of the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine,” Rose says for the millionth time. She takes a deep breath before returning to the conference room.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a camera in the center of the table that catches her walking back in. “Where’s Mitaka?” Hux asks when she appears.</p><p> </p><p>“A student named Jonathan—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t tell me—they broke up again,” Hux closes his eyes and massages the bridge of his nose with one hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Again?” Rose repeats, pausing at the end of the table without sitting down.</p><p> </p><p>“Happens every semester,” Hux sighs, his eyes still closed, and Rose realizes she’s hearing sinus congestion in his voice. Of course that’s it—he sounds sick.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, anyway, I think Mr. Mitaka has to give some sort of research presentation, so I told him it’s fine if we reschedule—”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Hux is frowning, but he seems a little—off, and Rose thinks she’s seeing the “loopy on cold medicine” bit that Dopheld had warned her about. Even though he’s not looking at the camera, Rose has a feeling Hux isn’t quite looking at the computer screen, either. His usually-neat hair has less volume, the top button of his Oxford appears to be undone, and it may just be the pixilation from the camera but Rose would swear there’s a slight shadow of red stubble along his jaw. <em>Yummy</em>, she thinks before she can stop herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you going to sit down?” he demands.</p><p> </p><p>Rose takes a few steps toward the chair Dopheld had occupied. “You still want to meet?” She sees that Dopheld is running Zoom on his laptop, so she disconnects the cable to the projector. Hux doesn’t need to be on the big screen if it’s just the two of them.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s stupid how we can’t get anything done around here. The same circular arguments every faculty meeting. Over and over and—Millie! I told you I’m in a meeting!” Hux suddenly hisses, his hand gesturing at someone off-screen.</p><p> </p><p>Rose gets a sinking feeling in her chest, any amusement at the situation fading instantly. “Millie” sounds like a woman’s name, or even a child’s. “Let me just log in to my computer, then,” Rose says coolly, angling Dopheld’s laptop sideways so Hux can see her as she pulls her own laptop out of her bag. <em>Well that was over quickly</em>, she admonishes herself, <em>just as it should be.</em> “So you already know what I’m trying to do—what questions do you have?”</p><p> </p><p>There’s no answer.</p><p> </p><p>Rose looks back over at the other computer, but Hux just stares vaguely at the computer screen, his mouth just slightly open as if he can’t breathe through his nose. His eyebrows draw together. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“I asked <em>you</em> a question,” Rose prods gently.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, of course.” Hux nods.</p><p> </p><p>“That—doesn’t answer my question.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, I don’t know that I heard you.” Hux shakes his head. “I’m not feeling exactly—oh,<em> fuck</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He briefly reacts, leaning away from something, and Rose lets out a hysterical giggle that morphs into a squeal as the camera is eclipsed by orange fur.</p><p> </p><p>“Millicent, I <em>told you</em>,” Hux is scolding, and his hand comes into view as he lifts a huge ginger cat away from the webcam and into his lap. “I’m <em>busy</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Millicent?” Rose asks, her voice gone squeaky in the way it does whenever she meets someone’s pet.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Professor Tico, meet Millie,” Hux says, glancing up at the webcam briefly before returning his attention to the cat in his lap. “She has an uncanny ability for seeking me out when I’m <em>least</em> available and refusing attention when I’m free to give it.” Hux sighs. “I’m sorry for the brain fog. Medication and all that. But it seems terribly rude to keep making you wait for everyone to make simple decisions.” He pauses briefly, raising a hand to his mouth; but nothing happens. There’s a look of some consternation on his face over his inability to sneeze. It’s nothing short of adorable, this man who seems so stiff and put-together looking just a little rumpled and distractedly petting a cat.</p><p> </p><p>“Bless you?” Rose offers.</p><p> </p><p>Hux waves away the sentiment. “As I was saying, I think we have a solution. So, Professor Tico—”</p><p> </p><p>“Rose. Just call me Rose.” She offers him a smile, looking directly into the webcam for a moment to give him the effect of eye contact.</p><p> </p><p>The corner of his mouth curves up slightly in return. “Rose. So you’re looking for a space for the writing center.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>By the end of the meeting, Hux has mostly remained coherent, and they’ve only been interrupted by particularly loud <em>meow</em>s twice. They’ve only been talking for about forty-five minutes, but it could’ve been five minutes for how easy it had been once the cold medicine became a little less potent. Hux cares about students, about their educational experience and the ways in which the college serves them; he’s always looking out especially for the first-generation students, who make up a significant portion of the student body. Rose thinks could talk to him about teaching all day—or about his orange cat Millicent, or the bookshelves behind him in what she assumes is his home office (she’s been trying to read the titles, but they’re too far behind him for her to really see anything more than the colors of the spines), or just about anything. Without the advantage of his height or the weird sense of rank she feels around people who have taught here longer than five years, he’s lost the intimidating edge he has in person.</p><p> </p><p>To top it all off, the library is offering Rose a large room (complete with a small private office for herself) to be used as the writing center, and all she really has to do is edit a few paragraphs in her grant proposal. The library room will be cheaper to renovate than her other options, which means her grant is more likely to go through—and the writing center will be much more visible there than the corner of the student union where it’s currently located. It’s honestly perfect—better than Rose could’ve hoped for.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you <em>so</em> much,” she gushes. She’s already said it about six times, but she just can’t seem to stop saying it.</p><p> </p><p>“Again, we’ve really done very little, considering,” Hux says, lifting the mug to his mouth again. Rose thinks she sees a blush blooming across his cheeks, though it could just be his fever.</p><p> </p><p>“You read my meeting notes thoroughly, brought them to your own department meeting, and arrived at a decision,” Rose ticks the points off on her fingers. “I get the sense that around here, that’s practically a miracle.”</p><p> </p><p>Hux laughs at that, and Rose thinks it’s a nice sound. She chuckles a little herself, and for a moment they both smile quietly at their respective computer screens.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” he clears his throat, dropping his eyes to Millicent, who is still perched in his lap. “I think I’ve kept you long enough. Feel free to email us if you have questions.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you could show me the room when you’re feeling better and back on campus?” Rose knows it’s not a logical question—she could just turn around and ask Dopheld. Probably even a student worker could unlock the door and flip on the lights.</p><p> </p><p>“I… think that could be arranged,” Hux says, his voice dropping a little lower than usual. He clears his throat again. “Ah, please—be safe on your way home, Rose.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s a funny sort of blessing, but Rose feels herself blush at the gentleness in his tone. “I will,” she nods. “Feel better soon, Mr. Hux.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please—Armitage.”</p><p> </p><p>Rose studies his face on the computer screen, thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. “Armitage.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think this will be just one or two chapters more. Thanks for reading and commenting, y'all!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Coffee Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is for Day Seven of <a href="https://gingerrose-hub.tumblr.com/post/614909019904163840/gingerrose-week-2020">GingerRose Week</a>, to fill the prompt "Caf &amp; Tea."</p><p>I have a short epilogue planned after this chapter--look for it soon. Thanks for reading and yay for GingerRose Week!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rose arrives early to the on-campus Starbucks. It’s fairly empty this late in the afternoon—a lot of the students’ extracurriculars are meeting—and luckily, she doesn’t have to wait in line to order. Coffee secured, she selects a table and pulls out her tablet, pulling up the document with her grant proposal in it.</p><p> </p><p>After a few minutes of nervously tapping the table she elects to check email. She made sure to wear her favorite blouse today—bright jewel-toned blue with a satin sort of finish—and she’s just spent five actual minutes in her office double-checking her hair and makeup. <em>Professional</em>, she reminds herself, her heart doing a giddy little leap when she sees him out the window, making his way down the sidewalk toward the student union. He’s wearing khakis today—<em>must be the warmer weather</em>—and a dark oxford with a subtle grid pattern, his sleeves rolled just slightly up his forearms. She clicks on an unread student email, tapping out a quick response so she won’t look so desperate when he walks in.</p><p> </p><p>“Rose,” Armitage says as he approaches, and she looks up from her tablet with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi! Go ahead and order—” she gestures to the counter, where a few students have begun lining up—“I’m early.”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, I—” he gestures with the insulated cup he’s carrying.</p><p> </p><p>“Not a big Starbucks fan?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not a coffee drinker, really.” He pulls out the chair.</p><p> </p><p>“Tea?” she nods at the cup.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s raspberry-lemon, so it’s technically—”</p><p> </p><p>“A tisane,” Rose finishes for him, remembering the lecture on tea one of the East Asian Studies professors had given last semester.</p><p> </p><p>Armitage looks a little surprised by her response. “Yes. Anyway,” he’s carrying a single folder, which he opens to reveal a printed copy of her grant proposal. “I’m sure you don’t feel like we hold enough meetings here—” Rose snorts, and his eyes brighten, indicating her response was the intended reaction—“so I’m sorry to say this one will be so brief. I ran it by Mitaka and a few others, but we think it’s perfect. No suggestions, no edits.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Rose highlights part of a paragraph in her document. “Even this section? I keep feeling like there’s a better way to say this…” She pushes the tablet toward him.</p><p> </p><p>Armitage considers the section, briefly, his hand brushing against hers as he gives the tablet back. “In this situation, you’re literally the expert.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s true, but Rose feels herself blush a little. “Right,” she says, laughing a little uncomfortably.</p><p> </p><p>Armitage takes a sip of his tea, his eyes sliding sideways to look out the window. He’s not quite smiling at her yet, and Rose chews her lip as she searches for a new topic. She didn’t spend all day looking forward to seeing him only to have their meeting last less than five minutes. “Well, ah—you feeling better?’</p><p> </p><p>“Much.”</p><p> </p><p>“And how’s Millicent?”</p><p> </p><p>Armitage’s expression softens, only just, the corners of his mouth turning up very slightly. Rose thinks he was much punchier and more open when he was half-high on cold medicine. “Trouble, as usual.”</p><p> </p><p>“The best cats are.”</p><p> </p><p>Armitage nods in agreement, moving to close his folder. His hand knocks just <em>slightly</em> into Rose’s coffee cup, which teeters and begins to knock into his own cup, and suddenly they’re both scrambling, Rose leaning forward to steady the cups, one with each hand, and Armitage whisking her tablet off the table to save it from a spill. They both freeze like that for a moment before relaxing, Rose letting out a sigh of relief as Armitage’s whole face goes pink.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry. That could have been—very bad,” Armitage says, ducking his head.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine,” Rose says, nudging his other hand where it rests on the table. “Crisis averted.”</p><p> </p><p>Armitage raises his eyes to hers and Rose leaves her hand there, her fingers resting against his, for just a few moments longer. He looks so <em>serious</em>. Involuntarily, Rose bites her lip, and his eyes flicker briefly to her mouth before travelling quickly back up to her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Rose taps at his hand with hers before pulling away. “You know, I still haven’t seen the room yet. Is there time now for you to show me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>They’re quiet as they leave the student union—Armitage holds the door for her—until Rose breaks the silence. “Whatever happened to Jonathan and Michael?”</p><p> </p><p>Armitage gives a sort of longsuffering sigh, glancing down at her out of the corner of his eye. “Probably back together. You know, these students—so many of their problems would be solved by communicating clearly instead of just blindly <em>reacting</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that the problem?”</p><p> </p><p>“Usually. ‘He doesn’t love me enough,’ or, ‘I thought he was mad at me.’” Armitage waves a hand aimlessly.</p><p> </p><p>“Poor kids,” Rose says. “Relationships are hard.”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Kids’ is right. That they think they’re adults at eighteen feels more ridiculous every year. But then…” Armitage pauses a bit long, and Rose glances up at him curiously, “I suppose I know people my age who aren’t very good at the give and take either.”</p><p> </p><p>“Certain people who can’t keep their mouths shut at faculty meetings?” Rose says before she can stop herself. “I mean—no, that was unkind.” She clamps a hand over her mouth, blushing.</p><p> </p><p>Armitage bumps his arm slightly into hers so that she’s not sure whether it’s on purpose. “Let the record show I’m <em>not</em> the one who said it,” he says coolly.</p><p> </p><p>Rose looks up. He’s <em>definitely</em> smirking. She averts her eyes again, and she swears she feels the blood pumping in her ears when she says casually, “I’m sure you’re a great communicator in <em>your</em> relationship.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m not—seeing anyone.” He sounds a little bit awkward, a little bit nervous.</p><p> </p><p>Internally, she’s on the edge of hysterics; but Rose keeps her voice even, accidentally-on-purpose bumping her arm into his the same way he’d bumped into her. “Neither am I.” She can feel his eyes on her then, but she pretends to be very interested in the canopy of trees over the promenade, biting back the huge grin threatening to spread across her face.</p><p> </p><p>In the library, Armitage tells Rose to wait at the front desk while he gets the right keys from his office. As she waits, she quickly checks her reflection in her phone, fluffing at her hair; and soon Armitage is back, leading her to the far corner of the first floor and unlocking a set of double doors. “Now, like I said, it’s being used for storage,” he says, pausing with his hand on the handle.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay?” Rose says eagerly.</p><p> </p><p>“Just—trying to manage expectations,” Armitage clarifies before letting her in.</p><p> </p><p>The room isn’t dark—half of one wall is entirely windows—but it is packed to the brim with detritus. When Armitage finds the light switch, Rose sees just how bad it is: old dusty filing cabinets and boxes upon boxes of paper files; teetering stacks of books that look at least a century old, their spines crumbling and pages yellowed; hulking computer monitors in haphazard piles; and a narrow, winding path cleared among it all so that whoever enters can navigate the room.</p><p> </p><p>Rose gapes at the mess, moving only far enough into the room so that the doors can close behind her; when her eyes find Armitage again, his face is flushed. “In my defense, I didn’t make this mess,” he says, avoiding meeting her eyes. “It used to be worse, if you can believe it. But we just haven’t had the time or the resources to recycle everything responsibly, what with the flood in the basement two years ago and the problems with the roof last fall.”</p><p> </p><p>As he speaks, Rose picks her way forward into the room, stepping over piles of junk so she can stand in the middle. The wall of windows is great—the tinted film on them is breaking down, but that won’t be a hard fix. The carpet is a disaster, but it can probably just be ripped out. Most importantly, though, there’s the <em>space</em>—the fact that she can fit several tables in here, scatter the students and peer tutors throughout the room instead of having them share one large conference table like in their current room. There’s plenty of wall for dry-erase boards and bulletin boards and bookcases, and she an even envision a chill workshop space—a couch, maybe, and a snack table with candy and coffee.</p><p>
  
</p><p>She turns back to Armitage, who is still hovering uncomfortably by the door. “It’s perfect,” she says softly—and when he seems surprised she full-out grins.</p><p> </p><p>“I know it’s rough—”</p><p> </p><p>Rose interrupts him, repeating her sentiment louder: “This is going to be <em>perfect</em>.” Rose isn’t just pleased; she’s ecstatic and energized and ready. She’d be up here <em>tomorrow</em> shredding the files for recycling if she had to be. Rose picks her way back to him, stopping just in front of him to smile up at him. “Thank you, Armitage.”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t respond right away, and when he does he seems to lose his train of thought. “Rose, I…” His eyes drop to her lips again. Rose lifts an eyebrow, expectant, and when he notices his whole face turns red. “…I really think this will be a good place for the writing center.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that all?” she prods gently. She knows for a fact it isn’t. It’s written all over his face. <em>Go on</em>, she thinks, smiling softly at his trepidation.</p><p> </p><p>He clears his throat. “I’d like to take you to dinner. And in the spirit of clear communication, I mean on a date.” He frowns some after he says it, his mouth forming a hard line.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t look very excited,” Rose teases.</p><p> </p><p>His answer is petulant: “What is there to be excited for? You haven’t answered yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” Rose nudges his foot with hers. “Give me ten minutes to grab my stuff from my office.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>two and a half weeks later</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey watches as Rose laughs with another colleague. The lobby is full of people clearing out after the faculty meeting, but even through the crowds Rey can see how Hux stands just a few paces behind Rose, waiting. The colleague—someone from a science department, Rey doesn’t know them well—says something to Hux, who acknowledges the comment and says something else in reply. Soon, Rose nods and waves, turning to go; Hux politely inclines his head to the other departing faculty member and goes to hold the door open for Rose. Then they fall into step beside one another and continue together toward the main promenade.</p><p> </p><p>“See, right there,” Rey says, nudging Ben with her elbow. “That’s all the proof you need.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s moving the writing center—of <em>course</em> they’re working together. Doesn’t mean anything.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey glares up at him. “You’re just being a contrarian. Remember when you used to wait for me like that? All stoic and terrifying, and <em>half our department</em> was afraid to talk to me because of it?”</p><p> </p><p>Poe jogs up to them then. Most of the faculty have dispersed, so the three of them can still clearly see through the giant window that Rose and Hux are walking together. “They’re boning,” Poe announces cheerfully, nodding toward the retreating couple.</p><p> </p><p>“Told you,” Rey says.</p><p> </p><p>“How does <em>he</em> know?” Ben gestures to Poe, still arguing with Rey.</p><p> </p><p>Poe defends himself: “Oh, Mitaka says Rose has been visiting the library <em>quite</em> a lot in the last two weeks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because of the writing center, obviously. You know, that thing we <em>just</em> voted to approve.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ben, you’re being obtuse for no good reason,” Rey pokes him in the ribs.</p><p> </p><p>“I am <em>not</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“Finn saw them at Java Hut last weekend.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben frowns at Poe. “Plenty of faculty have coffee meetings there.”</p><p> </p><p>“On a Sunday morning?” Poe grins.</p><p> </p><p>Ben seems stunned. “I just—I can’t imagine anyone <em>liking</em> him.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey rolls her eyes at her husband, muttering, “You don’t say…”</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>.</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I still think we should wait. Yes, the vote passed, but your grant still has to go through, and there’s all the work of cleaning and moving ahead…”</p><p> </p><p>Rose huffs fondly, elbowing Armitage. “But when <em>are</em> we allowed to celebrate then? Are you saying we should just sit around frowning at each other until it’s done?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not,” he says primly. “I only mean we should exercise caution in the early stages. Form a contingency plan.”</p><p> </p><p>Rose eyes him briefly, admiring the way the afternoon sunlight illuminates his soft red hair and pale skin, then lifts her eyes to the canopy of trees. She remembers how the careful swoop of his hair had fallen loose, how it flopped into his eyes as he moved above her, his skin warm against hers and his hands clutching at the sheets; she’s honestly thought of little else since the weekend, and she feels her cheeks heat at the memory. “I don’t think <em>every</em>thing should have a contingency plan,” she says at length. “I’d like to believe that sometimes good things just happen, and you get to be excited for what comes next.”</p><p> </p><p>Armitage makes a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat but doesn’t say anything else.</p><p> </p><p>Soon they slow to a stop in front of the library. “I’ve got to check in with the student workers,” Armitage says softly, and though his expression remains serious, there’s a hint of gentleness behind his eyes. “Will I see you tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>“What if I say no? What’s your contingency plan?”</p><p> </p><p>He seems momentarily startled before he realizes she’s teasing. He arches an eyebrow. “Then I guess we’ll have to wait another night to see what—or who—<em>comes </em>next.”</p><p> </p><p>Rose’s mouth falls open in a silent, incredulous laugh. She reaches out to swat at his arm but he moves out of range, his eyes shining with mischief as he turns and walks away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all for reading and leaving such kind, enthusiastic comments! Here's to reading, writing, and drawing more GingerRose. :)</p>
        </blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24636601">Rumor Has It</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimba65/pseuds/Kimba65">Kimba65</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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